Trauma 01 1 of 4 FEMSLASH
by sjslashfan
Summary: FEMSLASH Sam/Janet Sam panics when Janet falls ill.
1. Chapter 1

Sam blinked twice, and shook her head to try to clear it. She had been sitting in front of her computer for 11 hours now, with only a short break at lunch. It was time to call it a day, she decided. She was looking forward to an evening with her lover, in front of an open fire and a bottle of red wine. She smiled at the thought.

Sam logged out and shut the computer down, and was just headed toward the door of her lab to collect Janet from the infirmary, when Janet appeared at the door, rattling the car keys.

"Jan," she said softly. "I was just coming to get you." She stepped toward her, and stopped briefly, peering anxiously into Janet's face. "Are you okay, hon?" she asked. "You look awful pale."

"I'm fine, Sam," Janet replied, forcing a smile. "Stiff neck. Bit of a headache, that's all. Long day. Lots to do."

"You look exhausted, baby," Sam said gently. She took a step forward and kissed her softly on the lips. "Let me take you home, you can relax there, huh? Maybe take a nap?"

"Yeah," Janet agreed. "Nice quiet evening."

"My place?" Sam suggested, knowing that it was only 20 minutes from the base, unlike Janet's house which was over half an hour.

Janet nodded her agreement, massaging her neck and trying not to wince at the bright lights in Sam's lab.

"Have you taken some Tylenol for that?" Sam asked. "Do you think you should see Frankie?" she asked, referring to Francine Michaels, another of the doctors at the base.

"I'm okay, Sam, really," Janet said. "Just take me home, huh?"

Sam kissed her again, and wrapped her long arms round her in a protective hug. "Okay," she whispered into her hair. "We'll go."

They had come to the base in Janet's car that morning, having stayed at Janet's house the night before. They were only in the fourth month of their relationship but after their first week together, they had never spent a night apart if they could help it. Of course Sam often had to go on missions, and twice already Janet had had to go away for two nights for courses. But it was something they tried to avoid. It wasn't anything they had discussed, it was just a situation that had evolved naturally. They hadn't yet taken the step of moving in together, but they both knew that it was inevitable.

As they approached the car, Janet moved to the driver's seat. Sam put a hand on her arm. "I'll drive, hon," she said. "If you don't mind?"

Janet threw her a grateful glance. "That'd be great," she said. "Thank you sweetie."

As they drew up on the road outside Sam's house, Sam looked over at Janet. Her eyes were closed, but even so Sam could see she was in pain. She exited the car, being careful not to slam her door, and went round to the passenger side, opening Janet's door. "We're here, Jan," she said quietly.

Janet blinked, looking momentarily confused. "Sorry," she said, after a few seconds. "Must have fallen asleep for a moment."

Sam held the door open for her, and slid an arm round her waist once she was upright. Janet leaned against her. "I love you, Sam," Janet said in a quiet voice, reaching out and taking her hand.

"Your hands are like ice," Sam said to her. "C'mon, let's get you inside. We'll have you feeling better real soon."

Sam guided Janet to the couch in the living room. She knelt down and removed Janet's shoes. "Lie down, baby," she said, and lifted her legs on to the couch, grabbing a large cushion and placing it under her head. "You just relax for a while, hon," she whispered. "I'll go heat up some soup. When you've had some soup and crackers, you should go to bed, get some sleep. That headache'll be all gone in the morning."

"Will you come with me?" Janet tried to keep the pleading note out of her voice.

Sam stroked her soft cheek. "Of course I will honey," she said. She frowned, and moved her hand up to Janet's forehead. "You're feeling a little warm, Jan," she said.

Janet shook her head minutely. "Not warm. Cold," she said.

Sam grabbed the warm comforter from the armchair, and tucked it round her lover. "I'm just gonna get the thermometer," she said.

"M'okay," Janet mumbled.

Sam smiled, and kissed her softly. "I know you're okay, baby. Just humor me. I haven't got your medical expertise, remember?"

Sam returned from the bathroom in under a minute, and inserted the thermometer into Janet's ear, waiting for the telltale 'beep'. "100.4," she said. "I thought so, you have a fever."

"Only mild. It'll be gone soon," Janet insisted. "Took Toradol."

"Well you tell me if you start to feel any worse," Sam said firmly. "I'm gonna heat up this soup now. You warm enough now Jan?"

"Uh huh," Janet said, as Sam headed toward the kitchen.

"By the way," Sam turned back to her lover. "I love you too." She saw a small smile creep across Janet's lips.

Less than ten minutes later, Sam came back into the living room, carrying a tray with soup, crackers and a large glass of orange juice. Janet didn't stir as Sam set the tray down on a small table near the couch.

Sam knelt by Janet's head, and reached up to rouse her gently. She smoothed Janet's hair back from her forehead, and was disconcerted to feel the heat emanating from her. Sweat beaded on her brow, and she looked worse than ever. "Jan?" she said quietly.

Janet opened her eyes blearily, and tried to focus on Sam. She was feeling awful, she couldn't ever remember feeling this bad. She thought that it was Sam in front of her, but she couldn't be sure. Her head pounded, and her stomach was doing somersaults. She felt a hand run down her cheek, and relaxed fractionally. That was Sam's touch. Nobody else had hands like Sam. Soft, tender and more loving than Janet had ever experienced. "Sam?" she croaked.

"It's me," Sam's voice was soft. "You don't look so good, baby," she continued, keeping her voice as quiet and calm as she could. "I'm gonna call Frankie. Get her to call in, just in case. Okay?"

Janet struggled to sit up, suddenly feeling horribly queasy. She could feel Sam's hands supporting her. "Don't feel so good," Janet's voice was weak. "Oh God," she swallowed rapidly three times, clamping a hand to her mouth. "Bathroom."

Sam's reactions were swift, and she half-carried Janet to the bathroom. Janet fell to her knees, gripping the side of the toilet bowl just as Sam raised the lid for her. She felt one of Sam's hands placed comfortingly on her back. "Oh God," she said again, a thick stream of saliva trailing from her mouth.

Sam rubbed her back gently, trying to impart some of her own strength. "Let it go, baby," Sam whispered. "You'll feel better once you've thrown up. It's okay, Jan. I'm here, I'll look after you." Sam placed her other hand on Janet's fevered brow.

Janet whimpered at the cool touch, and swallowed again. "I'm sorry," her words were barely discernible. "I...," suddenly a hot torrent of vomit hit the back of the bowl.

"Nothin' to be sorry for," Sam tried to keep her voice calm and quiet. "That's it, Jan, that's good." She felt Janet shaking under her touch, and rubbed her back reassuringly.

Janet moaned, and heaved again violently. She started to cry. "Sam," Janet said weakly, "think something's wrong, think...," she retched again.

"Shh," Sam said, "you're gonna be okay Jan. I'm here, sweetie. I'm not going anywhere. We'll call Frankie. Once you're done," she grimaced as Janet gripped the toilet bowl again. "She'll come over, give you a shot or something. I won't leave you alone for one second Janet, I swear."

Janet's spasming stomach kept her hunched miserably over the toilet bowl for almost ten minutes, and Sam was starting to panic. She desperately wanted to get medical attention for her lover, but couldn't leave her alone to get to the 'phone. Janet was shaking and weak, and Sam was frightened she'd pass out on the bathroom floor. Finally Janet collapsed back into Sam's arms.

"You think you're done for now?" Sam asked her gently.

"Think so," Janet slurred.

Sam carefully got to her feet and lifted Janet into her arms. She carried her back through to the living room, laid her on the couch and pulled the warm comforter back over her. Janet's shaking was worse than ever. "Be right back," Sam promised, and sprinted to the kitchen, where she collected a basin and grabbed her jacket which had her cellphone in the pocket.

She knelt down again by Janet's head. "There's a basin right here, baby," she told her. "In case you feel sick again." She took her 'phone out of her jacket pocket and vaguely noticed that it was flashing, she must have missed a call on it. She dialed the base. "This is Captain Carter," she barked when the call was answered. "Put me through to Dr Michaels urgently, I have to speak with her right away."

In seconds, she was connected. "Sam!" Francine Michael's voice sounded strangely tinny. "I've been trying to call you," she continued.

"Sorry," Sam replied. "I've been with Janet. She's sick Frankie, I need you to come over right away."

"Oh God," Michaels replied. "I was really hoping she wasn't infected."

"Infected?" Sam demanded sharply.

"We don't have the results yet," Michaels told her. "But I'm 99% sure that Colonel Hesketh and Captain Street have meningitis. Janet treated Hesketh this morning for a bad headache, told him to come back if it got any worse. He was brought back in just after she left, collapsed in the commissary apparently. Street came in five minutes later. They're both real sick, Sam."

Sam's blood ran cold, fear striking her dumb.

"Sam?" Michaels asked. "You still there?"

"Yeah," Sam replied after a couple of seconds. "You've gotta get over here now."

"I'm getting my bag right now," Michaels replied. "We'll bring a wagon. What are her symptoms, Sam?"

"She had a real bad headache, severe nausea and a high fever," Sam slipped the thermometer into Janet's ear as she spoke. "Oh my God," she whispered, as the thermometer beeped. "102.1. That's gone up nearly two degrees in a half hour."

Janet twisted under Sam's hand, and whimpered. She suddenly doubled over, and Sam dropped the 'phone as she grabbed for the bowl and held it under her chin as she dry heaved. When Janet was finished, Sam pushed her gently back on to her back.

"Sam?" Michaels' voice came from the 'phone on the floor. Sam picked it up again. "She just got sick again, right?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed shakily.

"I'm getting into the ambulance now, we'll be there in 17 minutes," Michaels said. "Tell me, Sam, does she have a rash? Probably on her torso?"

"I'll look," Sam said. She pulled the comforter down, and unbuttoned Janet's shirt, pulling the sweat-soaked garment to one side. She saw an angry red rash covering Janet's side. "It's there, Frankie," she told Michaels. "It looks real bad."

"Okay," Michaels replied. "I need you to listen to me. It's obviously highly contagious. We're gonna come in all gowned and masked, I don't want that to alarm you. But Sam," she swallowed. "You should leave her, wait for us in a different room. You need to protect yourself."

"Not going to happen," Sam's voice was quiet, but authoritative.

Francine Michaels was not the least bit surprised to hear Sam's response. She was the only one on the base who officially knew about Sam and Janet's relationship, though neither woman had gone to any great lengths to hide it. "Okay, I didn't think you'd go, I just thought I'd try. We'll get you vaccinated straight away of course."

"What can I do to help her until you arrive?" Sam asked.

"Try and cool her down if you can. She should drink something, but she's probably not gonna want to. We'll give her fluids when we get there. Try not to worry, Sam. Janet's very fit."

Sam just nodded, forgetting that she couldn't be seen. "Front door's unlocked," she said in a small voice.

"We'll be there soon," Michaels promised, and then hung up the 'phone.

Sam dashed into the kitchen, and emptied all the ice cubes she had into a bowl, adding water to the top. She returned to Janet, who was whimpering in distress. She insinuated herself so that she was sitting on the couch with Janet's head in her lap. When Francine Michaels and her medical team let themselves into the house, they saw Janet cradled in Sam's lap, with Sam sponging her down with the cold cloth.

Michaels came straight over to Janet, putting a cool hand on her forehead. "She's burning up," Sam's voice was anguished.

Michaels inserted her thermometer into Janet's ear. "Okay," she instructed her team when she saw the result. "Get her on the gurney. Be careful with her," she said, unnecessarily. Janet was a great favorite in the infirmary, and all those who worked with her loved her. She would get the very best, and kindest, care.

"What does it say?" Sam demanded.

Francine Michaels looked her straight in the eye. "102.7," she told her. "We've gotta get her to the infirmary. And fast. Her fever's rising too rapidly."

Sam blinked angrily as tears sprang to her eyes. Janet moaned in pain as she was lifted on to the gurney. She looked round for Sam, and in her delirium couldn't see her. She cried out again, and Sam ran to her side, caressing her cheek. "I'm here, baby, I'm with you," she told her. She turned to Michaels. "I need to go in the ambulance with her Frankie," her eyes pleaded with the doctor.

Michaels put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Of course," she said simply.

Every bump in the road seemed to jar, causing Janet to whimper weakly. Sam sat by her head, holding her hand, stroking her cheek, whispering lovingly to her. They were just entering the gates at the SGC, when Michaels' cellphone trilled. "Yeah," she answered curtly. She listened for a few seconds. "You're sure? Okay. Thank you for letting me know. We're coming in now with Janet Fraiser. Make sure everything's set up."

Michaels turned to Sam, whose expressive eyes betrayed the fear she felt. "I'm sorry, Sam," she said softly. "They've just had the results of the lumbar puncture. It is meningitis."

Sam looked down at Janet, but Michaels could still see hot, fat tears spilling from her eyes. "She's going to be fine," Michaels said firmly. "We're going to throw everything we've got at it. Janet's young, and fit. And she's got a lot to live for," she added, smiling at Sam. "I've never seen her so happy."

Sam looked up at her, utter devastation in her face. "Just make her better," she said in a broken voice. "She has to get better."

"We'll do everything we can, Sam. Everything," Michaels' voice was firm. "I swear to you."


	2. Chapter 2

Sam continued to hold Janet as they transferred her to a bed in a private room in the infirmary, and cradled her as the nursing staff changed her into a loose-fitting gown. She was drifting in and out of consciousness, but even in her delirium seemed to be aware of Sam's presence, and became distressed if she thought she had gone.

"It's okay, baby," Sam whispered, over and over, stroking her forehead. "I'm here, I swear. I'm not going anywhere. I'm gonna stay by your side. I won't leave you, not for one minute."

"Fever's still rising," Michaels said grimly. "103.1." She turned to Sam. "I know she's gonna hate it, but we should really do a lumbar puncture. We need to establish the strength of the infection, make sure we're getting the dose of antibiotics right."

Sam grimaced. She knew that the procedure could be very unpleasant, and she wanted to avoid any further misery for her lover. But she also knew that Michaels had only Janet's best interests at heart. "Okay," she said in a quiet voice. "Just let me tell her what you're gonna do."

Michaels put her hand on Sam's shoulder. "She probably won't take it in, Sam," she said gently. "She's really out of it."

Sam nodded. "I still wanna tell her," she said, her voice cracking. "In case she realizes, and starts to panic."

Michaels squeezed her shoulder. "Okay," she said simply.

Sam turned her attention to her lover. "Jan," she whispered quietly, running a soft hand down her fevered cheek. "Jan, I need you to listen. Can you do that for me baby, just for a moment?" She kissed her lovingly on the forehead.

Janet whimpered, but forced her eyes open, gasping at the pain that the light caused.

"Keep them shut, baby," Sam said, and gestured toward Michaels who immediately went to the light switch and turned the illumination down. "Just listen, okay," she took one of Janet's hands, and was pleased to feel a slight squeeze in return. "Frankie's gonna do a lumbar puncture. It won't take long, and I'll be with you all the time. I know it's gonna hurt, Jan, but we need you to be brave. Frankie needs to know exactly what meds are gonna get you better fastest, and we all want that, don't we?" She felt light pressure on her fingers again.

"In a moment," Sam continued, "We're gonna roll you onto your side. Then we're going to draw your knees up to your chest, and I'm going to hold you as tight as I can. We need you to be as still as possible, while Frankie puts the needle in. You know the drill. It'll be over real quick, Jan. And you'll be in my arms the whole time. Okay, honey? Squeeze my hand if you got at least some of that." Again, she felt a faint pressure on her fingers.

Michaels got an angled lamp, placing it on a table behind Janet. "Thanks," she said to Sharon, one of the head nurses, as she came in with a tray of implements, including perhaps the largest needle Sam had ever seen.

"Okay, we ready?" Michaels asked, keeping her voice low.

Sam slid a gentle arm around Janet, taking care not to dislodge the IV that snaked from her arm. She rested her other hand on Janet's forehead. "We're gonna move now, Jan," she said quietly, and carefully rolled Janet on to her side. Janet moaned in pain. "Shh," Sam said, "we're nearly there now baby. Just need to get your legs up, so's the needle goes in nice and easy." She motioned to Sharon, who stepped forward, and helped move Janet's legs into the right position.

"That's good, hon," Sam kept up a quiet running commentary. "Frankie's just swabbing the area now, baby, just to make sure everything's clean. Next you'll feel the anesthetic going in. There," she said, as Michaels withdrew the small needle from the local anesthetic. "You did good, honey. Now," she took a deep breath, and tightened her hold on her lover, "we're just gonna give it a couple of minutes to take effect, right Frankie?"

Michaels nodded her assent. "Two minutes'll do it," she said.

"We'll just stay here and wait, huh?" Sam's tone was tender. She felt Janet reach out and grasp her shirt. She leaned down and kissed her softly. "Nearly there, Jan," she knew that Janet knew much more about medical procedures than she did, but she guessed that the sound of her voice would be reassuring to Janet. After a couple of minutes, Michaels nodded to Sam. "Okay, Jan," Sam said. "Here it goes."

Janet's grip on Sam's shirt tightened, and her already-labored breathing quickened as she felt the needle penetrate. Sam's strong arms held her tight and still, her grip somehow gentle but vise-like at the same time. In under two minutes, it was all over and Michaels was withdrawing the needle.

"There," Sam said quietly, "you did real good baby. She relaxed her hold somewhat, so that she was cradling Janet, rather than restraining her. Janet's grip on Sam's shirt remained fierce. Her face was creased in pain, her breathing coming in short gasps.

Michaels handed the syringe and its contents over to Sharon. She put a gentle hand on Sam's back. "Let's see if we can make breathing a bit easier for her," she said in a quiet voice, trying not to alarm Sam. She reached up at the back of the bed and unhooked the nasal cannula from its stand. Sam nodded, in comprehension, and moved Janet slightly to the side so that her face was exposed. Expertly, Michaels fitted the cannula, and hooked the tubes behind Janet's ears. Slowly Janet's breathing eased.

"Thanks," Sam's voice was anguished. "That's better, huh, baby?" she soothed. She was disconcerted to realize that Janet was crying again. "Shh," she tried to comfort her. "That's the worst over now, Jan. We're gonna let you relax now, no more needles."

Michaels injected something into the IV. "That should help with the pain," she told Sam.

"Try and sleep now, baby," Sam whispered to Janet. "You need to heal." She noticed that Janet had still not released her shirt, and that her own front was wet with Janet's tears. She kissed her on the forehead. "You need to lie back, honey. I'll stay with you, I swear." She put a hand over Janet's, and very gently pried it away from her shirt, holding it as she rolled Janet carefully onto her back. She noticed that Janet's hand remained twisted, in a claw-like shape. She brought it to her lips and kissed it. "Try to relax, Jan," she held the rigid hand in her own, massaging the tight fingers. "Frankie?" Sam asked, "her hand's all twisted."

"Her nervous system's taking a beating," Michaels explained. "There may be some involuntary reactions. There's not a lot we can do, not until the antibiotics take hold. We can always get her some physical therapy when she's better."

Sam looked up at her pleadingly. "She will get better, Sam," Michaels tried to sound confident. "If I have anything to do with it. She's strong, remember. And fit. And," she smiled at Sam. "She's a woman in love. She has a lot to live for."

"103.7," Michaels admitted when Sam questioned her nearly two hours later.

"So the drugs aren't working?" Sam demanded.

"I didn't say that," Michaels said. "It can take a while.."

Janet lay in Sam's arms, deathly pale, sweat pouring down her. Periodically, she whimpered and her limbs twitched involuntarily.

Michaels took out her stethoscope, and listened to Janet's chest, then took up her wrist and checked her pulse. Most of the information was available on the computer screen that blinked by Janet's bed, but Frankie Michaels liked to check things for herself.

"More ice packs," Michaels said to Sharon. "And maybe a dry gown?"

Sam realized that Janet's gown was soaked through. She checked the mattress underneath her. "Mattress is soaked too," she said to Michaels.

"Let's get that changed," Michaels said efficiently. "Sam, do you think you could hold her while we slide a new bed under her? I think that may be less distressing for her."

"Sure," Sam said, "just tell me when."

When the new bed was ready to swap out, Sam tenderly gathered Janet in her arms, and lifted her off the bed. Janet whimpered in her arms, and again grabbed on to Sam's shirt. "Shh," Sam whispered into her hair, kissing her on the forehead. "We're just gonna make you more comfortable. Get you out of these wet things." Within seconds, the dry bed was in place. Sam noted approvingly that it had a thick towel on it; that would be easier to change next time. She lay Janet back on the mattress.

She continued to cradle her lover, as Sharon peeled away the damp gown, patting Janet down carefully before covering her with another gown, this time just placed loosely over her. "Easier that way," Sharon said, starting to place ice packs all round Janet, at her neck, under her arms, her knees and on her front.

Sam nodded, her eyes suddenly filled with tears. This was her worst nightmare. Her lover, her reason for living, was deathly sick, and there was nothing she could do for her. She would rather face down the worst alien, or engage in the fiercest battle, than watch Janet suffer.

"Are you okay?" Michaels asked Sam in a quiet voice.

Sam nodded. "M'fine," she whispered.

Michaels approached Sam, and put a hand to her forehead, checking for fever. She smiled when she found none. "Vaccine seems to be working," she smiled. "At least you're okay."

"I'd swap places with her in a heartbeat if I could," Sam said.

"I know, Sam," Michaels said. "I know. And if you could, I'd be having the exact same conversation with her right here, right now."

Over the next few hours, Janet's condition became slowly worse. Michaels was in and out of Janet's room. General Hammond had drafted in more doctors to cope with the crisis, so both Drs Warner and Hendon were on site, but Michaels was still in charge so she had to check on all her patients.

By 9pm that night, Janet's fever had reached 104.2°F, and she lay panting in Sam's arms. She was by now deeply unconscious, and had shown no signs of recognizing anybody for hours.

General Hammond joined Michaels in the observation room. "How are they, doctor?" he asked.

Michaels turned to face him. "Hesketh has finally started to respond to the drugs," she told him. "His fever has fallen marginally. It spiked at 103.8, but is now down to 102.4. If he continues to improve, he should be out of the woods by morning."

"And the others?" Hammond asked. He couldn't admit it to anyone, but he had a particularly soft spot for Janet Fraiser. While he cared about all those serving under him, he felt a deep affection for the sparky medic.

"Not so good," Michaels took a deep breath. "Both Street and Janet are struggling," she admitted. "Street's fever is 104Â°F, but it hasn't risen in over an hour, which may be good news. Janet just seems to be getting worse. I hate to say it, Sir, but maybe we should be thinking of contacting her next of kin. Just in case."

"Who's down on her files?" Hammond asked.

"Her brother," Michaels said. "But I know they don't have a good relationship. I don't think they've talked properly for years. Should we call him Sir?" she asked.

Neither of them had seen O'Neill enter the observation room a few moments before.

"She's got her next of kin with her," O'Neill said, unexpectedly. "She's got Carter."

"Do you care to explain that statement?" Hammond asked.

"The doc loves Carter. Carter loves the doc. It's as simple as that," O'Neill said.

Hammond looked down at the two women in the room below them. Realization suddenly dawned. He was not watching two friends, one comforting the other. He was watching lovers. "Did Captain Carter tell you that?" he asked O'Neill.

O'Neill shook his head. "Nope," he said. "She and the doc try to pretend it's not happening. They don't try real hard," he smiled, "but they try. But you just have to see Carter's face light up when she enters the infirmary. "Don't take this personally," he addressed Michaels. "But for most of us, going to the infirmary is not an experience we relish," he grimaced.

Michaels turned to him, a smile crossing her tired features. She had been on duty over 24 hours.

"So what is your recommendation, Colonel?" Hammond asked. "That we don't call Dr Fraiser's brother?"

"Exactly that," O'Neill replied. "He's a dweeb. Fraiser told me so. It'll only upset her if he turns up. If she even realizes he's there," he added sadly.

Hammond looked at him, and then at Michaels. "I'm prepared to take your recommendation Colonel. And if there should be any comeback, anything at all, Dr Michaels, you tell whoever asks that it was my decision."

"Isn't that a breach of policy, Sir?" Michaels asked.

"Damned straight it is," O'Neill said.

"Doctor, do you think that there would be any benefit to Dr Fraiser if her brother were to come?" Hammond asked.

Frankie Michaels knew the answer to that. She knew, as Sam did, that Janet's brother had disowned her four years ago when she had come out to him. "None at all Sir," she said quietly.

"Then the decision is made," Hammond said. "I'm due to retire soon anyway," he added, giving a small smile. "I have very little to lose."

"Thank you Sir," Michaels said, stifling a yawn.

"It's time you got some sleep, doctor," Hammond said.

"I don't want to leave Janet," Michaels said. "I'm okay."

"I have no doubt you are, but I want you to stay that way. Get some sleep, doctor, and that's an order. I'll leave orders that you should be woken if you're needed."

Michaels nodded. "Okay," she said. She was bone tired. "I'll just check in on Janet first, then I'll go, is that okay, Sir?" she asked.

"Perfectly," Hammond agreed. He and O'Neill watched from the observation room as Frankie Michaels entered Janet's room, pushing a high-backed chair from her own office, on which were two pillows and a thick blanket.

"Hey," Michaels said as Sam looked up at her entrance.

Sam tried to smile. "No change," she whispered, her hand caressing Janet's twisted fist.

"I'm not gonna ask you to go to your quarters," Michaels said. "Even though Hammond has just ordered me to go sleep. But will you try and sleep for a bit here? This chair should be more comfortable," she motioned to it.

"Thanks," Sam said in a small voice. She allowed Michaels to swap the chairs over, and sighed as she sank comfortably into the new chair. Michaels put one pillow behind her head, and wedged the other one under her arm, so that she could still hold Janet's hand without getting too stiff. She shook out the blanket, and tucked it around Sam.

"That okay?" Michaels asked.

"You're a peach," Sam replied. "Thank you Frankie."

"If you need me, call me," Michaels insisted. "I'm in 107."

"Thank you," Sam whispered, but her attention was already back on Janet.

Michaels squeezed her shoulder as she left.

Despite herself, Sam fell to sleep about 1am, her hand still holding Janet's. So she was startled just before 2am, when she felt her hand being pulled sharply. In horror, she looked over and saw that Janet was jerking uncontrollably, her breathing coming in pained gasps. "I need help!" Sam shouted, as she leapt to her feet and held her seizing lover as tight as she could, in an attempt to stop her hurting herself. Janet's head was back at an awkward angle, and her limbs jerked independently of each other. Dr Hendon came running in, syringe in hand. He injected 10mg of valium directly into the IV on the back of Janet's hand. He then grabbed an oxygen mask from the side of Janet's bed, and held it over her face. Slowly, her seizure slowed, then stopped. Her breathing became less labored.

Eventually, Janet opened her eyes, looking up to see Sam gazing down at her, love and concern etched equally on her face. "S'ry," her voice was almost inaudible, and then her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she slumped in Sam's arms.

Sam kept a tight hold on Janet, whispering lovingly to her. She could feel the terrible heat rising from her, and took the cool washcloth that was passed to her by a nurse who had entered with Hendon. She lovingly sponged Janet down, trying desperately to cool her down. The nurse replaced the ice packs with new ones, but she caught her looking at Hendon and giving a minute shake of the head. "No," Sam said icily. "Don't you dare give up on her. Nobody's giving up on her. She's gonna be okay. You'll be okay, baby," she tried desperately to stop the tears from falling from her eyes. "Get Frankie in here. We need Frankie," Sam felt as though the bottom had fallen out of her world. She felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"I'm here," a sleep-rumpled Francine Michaels said. "And nobody's giving up on her. I want the antibiotic dose trebled. Now! she barked at Hendon.

"But isn't that...," Hendon started.

"A risk?" Michaels snapped. "Yes, it is. But it's all we have. It's worked before. I said now," her tone was low and dangerous.

"I can't lose her," Sam whispered. "She's all I care about."

"We're giving it our best shot," Michaels said, and hugged Sam tightly from behind.

"How long?" Sam asked.

"Before we know if it's worked?" Michaels asked. "Hard to tell. I think we'll have a good idea in the next hour or two."

Sam nodded, misery threatening to engulf her. She lifted a shivering Janet in her arms, shocked at how frail she was, and then carefully climbed on the bed with her. She lay down, Janet held tight to her chest. "Sleep now, baby," she whispered, praying that this was one sleep from which Janet would eventually awaken. But if she didn't, Sam wanted her to feel safe, and loved, right to the end.

Sam held Janet, barely breathing herself, just waiting and praying. Francine Michaels took up Sam's seat in the chair, checking Janet's temperature every 10 minutes. For the first hour, there was no change. Finally, Janet seemed to relax in Sam's arms, and her breathing became less painful. Michaels checked her temperature again. Sam looked at her anxiously.

Michaels smiled. "Too early to make a judgment," she said. "But it's fallen slightly. 103.8. It's still far too high, and I can't make any promises. But it's moving in the right direction.

Janet's fever continued to fall, and she was less distressed. At 5.30am, Sam slid out from underneath her, still holding her hand. "She feels cooler," she said to Michaels, who took out her thermometer again.

"102," Michaels smiled. "It looks like it's working. I think she's going to be okay, Sam."

At that, Sam's eyes filled with tears. She started to sob, uncontrollably, her chest heaving, her whole body wracked with emotion. Michaels pulled her into a tight hug and, for the first time in nearly 36 hours, Sam released her hold on Janet, and allowed Michaels to comfort her. "I thought I'd lost her," she hiccoughed. "I don't think I could live without her."

"It doesn't look like you're going to have to," Michaels said. "Not for a long time, anyways."

Sam accepted the comfort offered. Her nerves were stretched to breaking point, and she was also physically drained, having awake up for nigh on 48 hours. After a few minutes, she pulled away from Michaels. "Thank you Frankie," she said quietly. "For everything. For Janet."

Michaels pushed Sam gently back into the chair, settling her again with pillows and the blanket. Sam reached out and took Janet's hand, which was still tensed in an awkward fist. She looked up at Michaels.

"Looks like a bit of nerve damage," Michaels said.

"Will it be permanent?" Sam asked.

"Hard to tell," Michaels admitted. "Right now, we first need to be sure that there's no brain damage. It's looking good, Sam," she reassured the stricken captain, as she checked Janet's vitals. "But we'll have to wait until Janet wakes up before we can be sure."

"M'awake," a cracked voice said.

"Janet!" Sam cried. "Janet, baby. Oh God Janet. Are you okay?" she gathered her lover in her arms.

Janet tried to focus on Sam, but her vision kept swimming. "M'okay," she said. A tremor shook her. "Feel lousy," she admitted, her voice still not much above a whisper. "Thirsty." She could feel Sam's hot tears falling on her face.

Sam pulled back, and smoothed the sweaty hair back from Janet's forehead. She took the cup of ice chips proffered by Michaels, and very carefully spooned a few onto Janet's chapped lips. Janet's tongue darted out and swept them up gratefully.

Michaels smiled first at Sam, and then at Janet. "You gave us a hell of a scare there, Janet," she said gently. "But you're gonna be alright. She'll be fine, Sam. She'll be fine."


	3. Chapter 3

Michaels went over to Janet's IV, and injected something.

"What are you giving me?" Janet's voice was shaky.

Michaels smiled. "It's true," she said, "doctors really are the worst patients. I just gave you some Ranitidine, to combat the nausea. You'll likely be feeling real sick for the next few days, I'm afraid. We had to treble the dose of Ceftriaxone to try and get your fever down. So you'll be feeling the side effects for a little while.

Janet nodded weakly. "'kay," she said, her eyes shutting.

Michaels leaned over Sam, and kissed Janet on the forehead. "It's real good to have you back," she told her favorite colleague with feeling. "Try and get some rest now."

Janet opened her eyes again. "You too," she croaked. "You look exhausted."

"On my way home now," Michaels said. "I'll see you this evening." She squeezed Sam's shoulder as she headed toward the door. "You should try to sleep too Sam," she said.

Janet turned her head toward Sam, and noticed just how pale and shaken her lover was. "You look like crap," she told her bluntly.

Sam took up Janet's hand again. "Well I'm feelin' great," she said, unable to keep a goofy grin from her face. "I just had the best news I've ever had." She stood up and reached over to caress Janet's soft cheek, then kissed her very gently on the lips. "You're gonna be okay, hon. I love you."

"Love you too," Janet slurred her words.

"Sleep," Sam whispered, settling back down in the chair again. Janet's eyes were already shut.

Sam continued to hold Janet's hand. Janet had not yet noticed the damage that her illness had caused to her hand. But she looked good, certainly in comparison to the previous few days. Sam pulled the twisted fingers to her lips and kissed them softly. "We'll fix it together, baby," she whispered. In a few minutes, she too was snoring lightly.

Ten minutes later, Daniel let himself into the room. He saw the two sleeping women, and smiled. Along with most of the rest of the base, he had heard that Janet was out of danger, but just wanted to check for himself. Sam looked exhausted, he realized. Her head was also at an awkward angle, which would surely guarantee she would wake with one hell of a sore neck. Very carefully, making sure not to wake her, he adjusted the angle of her head, sliding the soft pillow underneath her. He then took the blanket which was draped over the back of the chair, and tucked it tenderly around her. Sam mumbled in her sleep, and snuggled further into the chair, pulling Janet's hand with her. "Sleep well, Sam," Daniel said quietly, and let himself out of the room.

Frankie Michaels sighed as she pulled up outside her apartment. It was 8.15am, and she couldn't remember when she had been this tired - or emotionally drained. Janet was her favorite colleague, but recently she had also become a close friend, as had Sam. Just watching the anguish on the blonde woman's face had been heartbreaking. Never in her career had she been so relieved when a patient recovered.

She opened the door to the apartment, and her heart lifted when she saw her lover's jacket over the back of the couch. Due to shift work, and other commitments, they mostly only spent a couple of nights together a week. So she had expected the apartment to be empty when she got home. Usually she didn't mind too much, but today her nerves were strung as tight as a piano wire and she really didn't want to be alone. Quietly, she opened the bedroom door, and almost sobbed at the sight of the body in the bed, a tuft of blonde hair sticking up from under the quilt.

The usually fastidious Frankie stepped out of her clothes, and left them in a messy pool on the floor. She slid in next to her lover, keeping her movements as small as possible in an attempt not to wake the slumbering form.

Feeling the dip in the bed, Frankie's lover awoke, and turned to face her. "Hey Frankie," the voice was rough with sleep.

"Hey, Sharon," Frankie replied, reaching out to touch her face. "I'm so sorry, I tried not to wake you."

Sharon leant over and cupped her face, kissing her tenderly. "Missed you," she said simply. "How's Janet?"

Tears sprang to Frankie's face. "She's gonna be okay," her voice cracked with emotion. "It was touch and go. We had to treble the Ceftriaxone. I thought we'd lost her, Sharon," she was struggling not to cry.

"You didn't lose her, Frankie," Sharon said in a voice full of love and empathy. "You saved her. You took the risk, and it worked."

"I had to," Frankie said. "She was dying, sweetheart. She wouldn't have made it to the morning." And she gave in to the relief of tears.

Sharon held her as she wept, whispering lovingly to her.

"I'm so grateful you were here when I got back," Frankie said eventually. "I need you."

"You've got me, you've always got me," Sharon replied lovingly.

"Not always," Frankie's voice was hesistant. She turned to face her lover again, and kissed her. "How about moving in with me? Permanently, I mean. I don't want to be apart from you any more than I have to."

"What about the Air Force?" Sharon asked.

"Don't ask, don't tell," Frankie said. "If they don't ask, we won't tell. And if they do ask, then screw them. We'll get other jobs."

Sharon smiled widely. "I'll cancel my lease tomorrow," she said, and pulled Frankie to her. "Now sleep," she whispered into her hair.

"How's she doing?" Frankie asked Sam that evening, when she returned for the night shift at 9pm. Janet was asleep, but according to the computer by her head her temperature was 99.8. She was also breathing well, and her color had improved.

"She's great," Sam smiled, barely able to keep her eyes open.

"Has she been sick at all?" Frankie wanted to know.

"Only once, much earlier today. Looks like the anti-nausea medication is doing its job," Sam said. "She's been sleeping most of the day. But she looks good, doesn't she Frankie?"

Frankie squeezed her shoulder. "She looks great Sam. You, on the other hand," Frankie smiled, "look just about as bad as I've ever seen. I'm gonna make it doctor's orders now. You have to go to your quarters."

"But what happens if she wakes during the night?" Sam protested, just as the door to Janet's room opened, revealing Daniel, holding his customary cup of coffee and a large book.

"Then I'll be here with her," Daniel told her with a grin. "Sam, you're going to make yourself sick. And that's not going to help Janet. Jack sent me, told me to tell you, and I quote, "to get her perky ass to her quarters, and not even think about coming back until 7am, or she'll have me to answer to"!

Sam put her hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay," she said. "I am a bit tired," she admitted, hugely understating the total exhaustion she felt. "But you call me if she needs me, you swear?"

"We will, Sam," Frankie reassured her. "We swear. But just look at her, she's fine." She motioned over to the bed, where Janet was sleeping peacefully. The only evidence of her recent brush with death was her hand which remained twisted at an awkward angle, and the IV which still snaked from her arm.

Just before 6am, Janet awoke, disoriented at first. She looked over at the chair, and was startled to see Daniel there. "Hey," Daniel said softly.

Janet smiled. "Hey," she croaked.

"How're you doing?" Daniel asked her, putting a gentle hand on her arm. "Can I get you anything?"

"Water?" Janet asked. Her mouth felt horrible, and she was desperately thirsty. Daniel held a cup with a straw up to her lips, and she drained it gratefully.

"You're looking good, Jan," Daniel said.

Janet grimaced. "I look horrible, I know I do. But I'm feeling okay. Considering. Is Sam okay?" she asked Daniel.

Daniel smiled. "She's good too, Janet. Jack sent her to her quarters last night. She was wiped out. She hadn't left your side, not for one minute."

"Poor baby. I hope she slept," Janet said. "Daniel," she hesitated. "Sam and me. I mean, me and Sam. We..."

Daniel grinned, and took her hand in his. "We know, Janet, we know," he said. "In truth, we've known for months."

Janet looked shocked. "We were trying to keep it quiet," she said, a smile quirking at her lips.

"Well you didn't succeed," Daniel grinned. "You may be two of the best officers on this base. God knows you're the smartest. But you can't act. Especially Sam. You should see her face every time she heads to the infirmary. She gets that dreamy look. Even Teal'c's noticed. We all know, Janet, and we couldn't be happier for you."

"What about the colonel?" Janet asked.

"He loves you both, Janet, and he's delighted. In fact, he and Hammond broke the rules to keep Sam with you when you were really sick, they wouldn't call your brother. Jack was afraid he would turn up and make Sam leave. And that would just about have killed her."

"Oh God, poor Sam," Janet realized how sick she must have been. She couldn't imagine what Sam had been through.

"She's okay, Janet, and so are you. That's what matters. You want some more water?" Daniel asked, solicitously. Janet nodded her head, and Daniel held a fresh cup to her lips.

Ten minutes later, Daniel looked up as the door creaked open. He looked at his watch. "It's 6.37am, Sam," he reprimanded his teammate. "You're early." He looked at her closely, and was delighted to see she looked much-rested. She had clearly come straight from the shower too; her hair was still wet, and her face was devoid of make-up. "Get dressed in a hurry?" he teased.

Sam grinned back. "Places to go, people to see, you know how it is." She looked over at Janet, and was thrilled to see her lover awake and looking better than she had in days. "Hey," she said shyly.

"Hey beautiful," Janet replied.

Sam leaned over and kissed her. Janet grimaced. "I must taste awful," she said. "I need a shower."

"You taste wonderful," Sam told her firmly. "I'll talk to Frankie, see if we can't get you a shower later today. See what she says. So how was she Daniel, did she behave?" her eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Model patient," Daniel said. "Slept all night, not long since she woke. I'm gonna go now, leave you two lovebirds alone," he winked at Janet, and left the room.

"So the cat's out of the bag?" Sam grinned.

"They've known for months, apparently," Janet laughed. "Let's face it, we didn't try that hard to hide it, did we?"

Sam shook her head. "If they don't like it, quite honestly I don't give a rat's ass. We can always find somewhere else to work."

Janet looked over at her. "They think it's great," she told her lover. "They're on our side, Sam." She yawned.

"Think you could sleep a bit more?" Sam asked her tenderly. "Your system's had a hell of a shock, baby."

Janet nodded. "Will you hold me? Jus' for a bit?" she asked, knowing she sounded rather pathetic.

Sam kicked her shoes off, and slid on to the bed next to Janet. She pulled her into her arms, and held her tight, trying desperately to forget how she had felt when she had last done so. Then, she hadn't known if Janet would ever wake up again. Her heart flooded with emotion, and she tightened her grip. "I love you so very much," she whispered into Janet's hair.

It was two hours later that Janet awoke again, feeling safe and secure in Sam's arms. Sam looked down at her lovingly. "Hey, how're you feeling?" she asked.

"Great," Janet said. "I always do, when I wake in your arms."

"Think you could manage some breakfast?" Sam asked, knowing that Janet had not had any solid food for four days, subsisting solely on what she could get through the IV. "Frankie said you could try some oatmeal this morning." She ran her hand down Janet's arm. She had lost a frightening amount of weight in just a few days, the raging fever stripping the flesh from her bones.

"I'll try," Janet said.

"I'll fetch some from the commissary. Want me to get someone to sit with you?" Sam asked.

Janet shook her head.

"Be right back," Sam said, kissing her tenderly.

When she got to the commissary, though, Sam was unimpressed with the stodgy-looking oatmeal on offer. It had clearly been sitting there for some time, and a skin had formed over the top. So she smiled at one of the cooks, and explained that she was collecting breakfast for Janet. Janet was universally loved, so the cook turned to and made a fresh bowl of oatmeal for her. He was rewarded with a 1,000 megawatt Carter smile.

It was therefore almost ten minutes later by the time Sam returned to Janet's room. Janet was sitting up in bed and was grasping her twisted left hand in her right hand. She was straightening the fingers, but as soon as she released her hand, the fingers turned back into the claw shape again. Sam could see tears on her face as she entered, and realized that this was the first time Janet had been conscious for long enough to notice the residual damage of her illness.

"Sam?" Janet's voice broke as she saw Sam re-enter the room, bowl in hand. She motioned to her twisted hand.

Sam placed the bowl of oatmeal on the side table, and went straight to Janet, taking her in her arms, rocking her gently. "I know, honey, I know," she said softly. "You've got some nerve damage there. We'll fix it. We'll work together. I'll be by your side. Every step of the way." She pulled back so that she could see Janet's face. She tucked an errant strand of hair behind Janet's ear, and kissed her tenderly on the mouth. "We'll do this together, huh baby?"

Janet nodded miserably, and snuggled into Sam's embrace. "I love you," she whispered.


	4. Chapter 4

"Think you can manage the oatmeal now, sweetie?" Sam asked her lover tenderly, realizing that Janet was still processing the bad news about her hand.

"Okay," Janet's voice was small. In truth, she didn't want to release Sam. She needed to feel her warm strength, to touch her, to feel safe in her arms.

"Okay if I stay right here while you eat?" Sam asked, fully aware of how shaken Janet was.

"Yeah," Janet said. "Please."

Sam reached out and grabbed the bowl of oatmeal, holding it in front of Janet. She kept a tight hold of the bowl, knowing that Janet would have difficulties holding it with her damaged hand while she ate using the other.

After a few spoonfuls, Janet pushed the bowl to one side. "S'enough," she said, tiredly.

"Okay, baby," Sam's voice was tender and loving. "Close your eyes for a while, Jan. I'm staying right here, is that okay?"

Janet just burrowed deep into Sam's front. She noticed that her damaged hand was twitching, and tried to still it with her right hand. Sam just reached for the twisted limb, and held it lovingly in her own hand, bringing it to her lips and kissing it. "It'll be okay, Jan, I swear to you," she whispered, as she saw the stricken look on her lover's face. "We're gonna get you all the physical therapy you need." She caressed the fingers gently and slowly the twitching stopped. Sam cradled Janet in her strong arms until she finally fell to sleep.

"You're looking good, Janet," Frankie said as she arrived at the mountain that evening. She wasn't due on duty until 9pm, but had decided to come in early to check on her favorite patient. "Much more like your old self."

Sam smiled broadly. "She looks great, doesn't she Frankie?"

"I look horrible," Janet smiled too. "Please tell me I can have a shower, Frankie? And get rid of this damned catheter? I feel real grubby and stale."

Frankie looked concerned. "I'm not sure you're strong enough for a shower, Janet," she said. "I don't think you're ready to be on your feet just yet."

"What if I take her?" Sam suggested. "I can hold her the whole time."

Janet looked pleadingly at Frankie. "Okay," Frankie laughed. "You can take her Sam, if you use the handicapped stall at the other end of the infirmary. It's bigger, and it's got handles. And you're going there and back in a chair Janet," she said firmly.

"Okay," Janet said. In truth, she didn't think she could walk that far anyway, so she didn't argue.

While Frankie removed Janet's catheter, Sam sprinted off to her quarters and to the locker room, to get fresh clothes for both of them. Also, she wanted Janet to have her own shampoo and toiletries, so that she would feel more human. By the time she had returned, Frankie had collected a wheelchair, which was lined with two huge, thick towels. "As soon as you get out of the shower, you put Janet right back in here, and wrap her warmly, okay?" Frankie instructed. "There are also toweling robes in the shower room. I've told the nursing staff to put a plastic chair in the stall. I don't want you carrying Janet the whole time Sam, you'll both be safer on the chair. And you're not to lock the door. Sharon's going to be sitting outside the whole time, so you just call if you need anything. Okay?"

Sam laughed. "Yes, Ma'am," she saluted smartly, making Janet smile too. "I'll take real good care of her, Frankie," she promised.

"I know you will, Sam," Frankie smiled back. "Janet couldn't be in safer hands."

"God that's good," Janet breathed, as she stood pressed to Sam's front, under the warm spray, with Sam supporting her firmly with one hand, using the other to massage shampoo into Janet's hair. She rinsed her off, and then used a washcloth to rub scented shower gel into Janet's skin. Sam tried not to notice how thin and frail her lover was, and instead just concentrated on how she would help her regain her strength. And her mobility, she thought sadly.

Sam felt Janet's legs begin to tremble, and lifted her effortlessly into her arms, moving them both to the chair. "You okay, sweetie?" she put a soft hand to Janet's cheek.

"Yeah," Janet said. "I'm great," she looked deep into her lover's eyes, seeing concern and love. "Kiss me," she asked quietly.

Sam cupped her cheek, and kissed her very tenderly on the lips.

"More," Janet demanded. "Kiss me properly. Like you mean it."

Sam smiled. "I always mean it Jan," she said softly. She kissed her again, more deeply, and was gratified to feel Janet responding. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she tried to stifle a sob.

"Sam?" Janet asked. "What's wrong, hon?"

"Nothin'," Sam replied, pulling herself together. "It's just so wonderful to feel you again. Like that, I mean. I was so scared before, Jan, that we might never be together again."

Janet took the initiative this time, and kissed Sam passionately. "We'll always be together Sam," she whispered.

Sam tightened her grip on her. "We will," she agreed. She rocked Janet gently in her arms for a couple of minutes, as the warm water pounded therapeutically over both of them. "Okay," she said quietly, getting carefully to her feet, Janet still in her arms. "We can't have you getting cold."

She stepped out of the shower, taking great care not to mis-step, and placed Janet lovingly into the chair, wrapping the warm towels round her. She then grabbed a robe from the hook on the door and swiftly put it on. Taking another towel, she tenderly at Janet's hair, getting as much of the moisture out of it as she could. "You warm enough there, baby?" she asked Janet.

Janet smiled. "I'm great," she answered, cocooned as she was in the thick warm towels. Sam took the other robe, and wrapped that round her too. She then put a pair of warm socks on her feet. Janet smiled again. "I'm plenty warm, Sam, I swear," she said.

Sam grinned back. "Just makin' sure," she said. She then dressed swiftly in the fresh BDUs she had set out for herself. "Ready for some clean clothes?" she asked Janet.

"God yes," Janet said.

Sam brought over a favorite t-shirt and shorts that she had asked Sharon to collect from Janet's house on her way into work that day, along with a bagful of other basics including toiletries, cosmetics and several changes of clothes.

"Oh Sam," Janet was so moved. "How did you organize that?" she asked.

"I just thought you'd be more comfortable wearing your own stuff," she shrugged.

"C'mere," Janet instructed, and kissed her deeply. "You don't know what that means to me. I don't think I could bear one more day in that gown."

"I don't know," Sam cocked her head, looking at her sideways. "I kinda like the way it shows your butt. That's a sight I can stand to see every now and again." She grinned.

Frankie was waiting for them when they got back to Janet's room. "Okay?" she asked.

"Great," Janet smiled. "I can't tell you how nice it is to be clean again."

Sam reached down and tenderly lifted Janet from the chair, placing her back on the bed. She noted approvingly that there were fresh, clean sheets on it. "I can walk," Janet objected mildly.

"Well I'm not gonna let you. Not yet," Sam said. "You look all-in Jan. Think you can sleep again?" She looked over and saw that Janet was staring disconsolately at her hand, which was curled into a tight claw and was jerking rhythmically. "Oh baby," Sam said gently. She put her hand over the distressed limb, and gathered Janet into her arms. She could tell that Janet was trying desperately not to cry. "Let it out, hon," she said, rubbing her back and kissing her softly as Janet's body shook with tears.

Frankie felt like a voyeur as she watched the two women lost in their own private misery, clinging desperately to each other for support.

Once Janet had calmed, Sam tenderly lay her down on the pillows, and kissed her softly.

"That's always going to be worse when you're tired, or you've exerted yourself, or if you're upset," Frankie reminded Janet gently. "That was the first time you've moved out of that bed for days. That was bound to trigger a reaction."

Janet just nodded glumly.

"We're okay, Frankie, aren't we Jan?" Sam said quietly. "It's all gonna be okay."

"I'll get Karen Meadows to call in tomorrow," Frankie said, "talk to you about physical therapy. The sooner we do something about it, the better the recovery will be."

Janet nodded again.

"There's a good chance we can restore full mobility," Karen Meadows told the anxious Janet and Sam. "The important thing at this stage is that we get straight on with therapy. You need to do the exercises as often as you can manage Janet. Do you think you can do that?"

"I'll do them all the time," Janet said determinedly.

"And you need to massage that hand at least twice a day, for at least 20 minutes at a time. Maybe you can help with that Sam?"

"Of course," Sam replied, glad to have something practical to do.

"The neural pathways have been damaged," Meadows explained. "But the body is an amazing thing. You can relearn. It's impossible to say at this stage whether you'll ever be back to 100%. But we can certainly improve things drastically. How much depends on you."

"We'll do everything we can," Sam said firmly. "Won't we sweetie?"

Janet nodded again, looking a little lost. She reached out and took Sam's hand.

"When you aren't exercising, or massaging, I want you to wear this splint as much as you can bear," Meadows said. "It'll be uncomfortable, I know, but it'll help to teach your body that your hand and fingers should be straight. If you can bear to wear it at night, that should help enormously. And for as much as you can bear during the day. I'll show you how to put it on, Sam," she said to the blonde. "It'll probably be too difficult for Janet to manage on her own, to start with at least."

She then demonstrated how to get Janet's hand and fingers straight, and then to strap them in to the plastic split, using the velcro fastenings.

"That looks real sore," Sam sounded distressed. "How does it feel Jan?"

"S'okay," Janet said, in a monotone, suddenly bone weary.

Meadows noticed the change in her patient. "I'll come back tomorrow. You should probably rest now, Janet."

"Think you can sleep again, Jan?" Sam asked her tenderly.

"Yeah," Janet said. "'m tired."

Sam leant down in order to lift Janet out of the chair and back on to the bed. "No," Janet said. "I want to do it by myself. I need to do it."

"Okay," Sam said. "Whatever you want, baby. Let me help if you need me though, huh?"

Janet nodded. "We'll do it together," she compromised. She reached out for Sam's hand and, painfully, levered herself to her feet. Leaning heavily against Sam, she shuffled the three steps to the bed, and sat down heavily, swaying slightly. She looked up at Sam, and grinned wearily. "See!" she said. "Told you I could do it."

"Want me to get your legs?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Janet said smiling. "You surely don't expect me to do all the work? I've been sick, you know."

Sam lifted her legs on to the bed, and tucked her lovingly into bed. "Frankie was right," she said, grinning.

"What?" Janet demanded.

"You medics really are the worst patients!"

Janet opened her mouth to object, but Sam stopped it with a kiss. "Sleep," she instructed her.

"You're good at that," Janet said to Sam, as the blonde tenderly massaged her hand. For the fourth day running, Sam had insisted on massaging her hand three times a day.

"Any excuse to touch you," Sam smiled. "There," she kissed her hand. "You're done. Until tonight, that is."

"Thanks," Janet said in a small voice. "I suppose I should put the splint back on." She grimaced. Her hand felt so good while Sam was massaging it, and she knew that almost as soon as the splint went back on, it would stiffen and become painful.

"How about I hold it for a while first?" Sam suggested, gently stretching it in her own hand. "We'll put it back on in an hour, huh?"

"Thanks," Janet whispered. Somehow Sam could read her every emotion and knew how to make her feel better.

Sam realized Janet was beginning to get depressed. As she slept gradually less every day, so she became more aware of her limitations. She had been allowed to get fully dressed for the first time that morning, which Sam had hoped would cheer her. She had even left her to dress on her own, as she was worrying that she was doing too much for her, and becoming patronizing. But her heart had bled when she returned to Janet's room after ten minutes, to find her sitting on the bed, in tears, naked from the waist upwards, her bra in her hand. "I can't do it, Sam," Janet had wailed. "I can't even put my damned bra on."

Sam had gently prised the garment from her hands, and slipped it on her, securing it at the back. As Janet showed no sign of further movement, she then took her shirt, and helped her into it, doing up the buttons. "There," she had said. "I'm sorry, baby, it's my fault. I should have realized." And she had wrapped her long arms round her lover, and just held her tight for a few moments.

Sam could see that Janet was trying to be brave, but was finding it hard. She also intensely disliked staying in the infirmary. All the other doctors, and the nursing staff, were usually part of her efficient team. She couldn't bear being the patient.

"I wanna take her home, Frankie," Sam told Michaels five days after they had both seen Meadows for the first time. "She's not getting any better here. You can come visit her. I think she'll be able to relax more in her own house."

To Sam's surprise, Michaels agreed. She gave Sam a whole list of instructions, and numbers to call if she should need to. She also handed her a large bag of drugs. "Dosages and timings are all on the bottles," Frankie said. "These should help her."

"Home sweet home, huh?" Janet tried to muster a smile as Sam helped her through her own front door. She had begged Sam not to carry her in, and was determined that she would make it on her own two feet.

"Yeah," Sam smiled. "At last. Though I'm staying too Jan, if you can bear that. I know you probably want your own space, but I promised Frankie I'd be with you for the next two weeks at least."

"I'm glad," Janet said. "I don't want to be alone. I need you Sam."

"And I need you too, Jan," Sam said as she led her to the couch. "Stay there. I'll make tea."

"Are you ready for this?" Sam lifted the splint that Janet was beginning to hate. They had just changed for bed, and Sam was nervous of suggesting the splint, knowing what it would do to Janet's mood.

"Not yet," Janet said. "Soon. Come here, sweetie. I want to hold you."

Sam smiled tenderly. She had deliberately not put any pressure on Janet to resume their normally very active sex life. She knew her lover was feeling terribly vulnerable, quite apart from her physical condition. So she had decided she would wait until Janet made the first move. That this might be that first move filled Sam with joy. She sat next Janet, and reached out tenderly, cupping her soft cheek. "You're so beautiful," she told her.

"Right back at ya," Janet tried to joke. She was suddenly terribly nervous. Intellectually, she knew that her problems with her hand wouldn't make her any less attractive to Sam. But she couldn't help feeling disabled, clumsy and unattractive. She couldn't imagine why anybody would ever want to make love to her again. But as she looked up, she saw the familiar darkening of Sam's stunning eyes and realized gratefully that her disability didn't make any difference to her.

"Will you kiss me?" Janet asked in a small voice.

Sam leant forward, and kissed her, so softly at first that Janet wasn't sure if she had imagined it. But then the pressure on her lips came again, and again, becoming more passionate. She started to respond to Sam's passion, and soon the two women were clinging desperately to each other, their tongues intermingling, and their breath shortening.

Janet smiled warmly, and leaned in for another kiss. Their kissing became more and more intense, until Janet pushed Sam gently back on the bed, pressing herself against Sam's long lean body. She slipped her tongue back into Sam's mouth, and started to move her good hand down Sam's body, when without warning her bad hand started to jerk. She tried to hold it still, but the harder she tried, the less control she had and soon the spasm became violent and painful.

Sam immediately sat up, reaching out to take spasming limb, massaging it gently between her fingers until eventually it stilled. She looked up, and saw to her horror that Janet's face was white with shock, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. "Jan?" she said. "Are you okay, baby?"

Janet pulled away from Sam, snatching her hand and cradling it to her chest. "M'okay," she said sharply.

"Jan?" Sam reached out and laid a hand on her leg.

"No!" Janet almost shouted, jumping off the bed.

"Jan? Where are you going baby?" Sam tried not to cry.

"Gotta pee," Janet said shortly, bolting into the bathroom and shutting the door. Sam's heart broke when she heard the key turn in the lock. They had never needed to lock doors.

Sam gave Janet ten minutes, then got up and went and knocked on the bathroom door. "Baby? Are you okay?" she asked. "Janet, sweetie, let me in. Please."

Janet was curled up on the bathroom floor, shaking with shock and cold. She heard the desperation in Sam's voice. She felt so miserable, and now she was making Sam miserable too. How could Sam ever forgive her for her fit of temper? She reached up and turned the key.

Sam entered the bathroom, and saw Janet rocking miserably on the floor, cold, naked and frightened. Quickly she lifted the robe from the back of the door, and wrapped it round Janet. She knelt on the floor next to her, one hand on her back, the other stroking a soft cheek. "It'll be okay, baby," she whispered gently to her. "You'll be okay. You'll be okay."

Janet turned into Sam's embrace, tears overwhelming her and she sobbed, letting out all the pent-up miseries and frustrations she had been trying to tamp down for days. When she eventually stilled, Sam kissed her softly. "Can I take you back to bed, baby?" she asked. "You're like ice."

Janet nodded miserably, so Sam got to her feet, and scooped Janet off the floor, holding her to her chest like a frightened child. She put her back into the bed, and climbed in next to her. Abandoning all thoughts of love-making, she pulled Janet to her, and held her tight.

"Splint?" Janet asked in a small voice.

"How about we leave it off tonight, huh?" Sam suggested. She knew that the splint was important, but she judged that Janet's mental state was too fragile to consider it tonight. And one night would not make any difference.

Over the next two weeks, Janet tried her best to adopt a positive mental attitude. She did her exercises as often as possible, and allowed Sam to strap her into the hated splint for most of the day and all of the night. She made some progress, but to her it was horribly slow. She also felt guilty that Sam was with her day and night. She knew how important Sam's career was, and it was now nearly three weeks since Sam had done any work at all.

"You should go back to work," Janet announced one morning. "I'm fine here. I can't keep you away from the mountain any longer."

Sam reached out and took her hand. "You're not keeping me away, baby, I'm where I want to be. The colonel knows that, says I don't have to come back until we're both ready."

"I am ready, Sam," Janet said. "I can do most things on my own now. Anyway, it's time I spent some time alone. Come to terms with things."

Sam peered at her closely. "How about I go back mornings for a while, see how it goes?" she suggested.

"Yeah," Janet agreed. "That'd be good. Give us both something else to think about for a while. Rather than this damned thing," she looked bitterly at her hand.

"She seems so angry," Sam confided in Frankie toward the end of her first week back working mornings. "Sometimes I don't seem to get through at all. It's not like Janet, she's usually so positive. So upbeat. She never lets things get to her."

"She's been through a terrible trauma," Frankie said gently. "It's gonna take her a while to adjust. Sam?" she looked up in horror, to realize that the captain had started to cry. "What is it, Sam?"

"Sometimes I don't think she loves me any more," Sam admitted. "I think I'm just beginning to irritate her. Maybe because I'm always making her put her splint on, or massaging her hand. She won't even make love, Frankie," Sam blushed. "She just pushes me away. Tells me she's not ready."

"Give her time," Frankie said gently. "She loves you Sam. More than she loves breathing. Keep remembering that."

Sam started to dread going home, and was extending her mornings so that they were finishing around 4pm. She knew that she was wrong to do so, but Janet just seemed so pissed when she was around. Twice already she had refused outright to let Sam put her splint on in the morning before leaving for work, and she was rarely even wearing it at night.

The last three days Sam had come home to find Janet lying in her pajamas on the couch. As far as Sam could tell from looking in the kitchen, Janet hadn't even eaten. So each night, despite her limited culinary skills, Sam made a plate of basic food, and all but forced Janet to eat a good portion of it. "Please, honey," she pleaded. "You're still far too thin."

Janet hated the way she was behaving. She loved Sam more than life, more than she had ever imagined it was possible for one person to love another one. But she was pushing her away, behaving despicably. And still Sam came home to her, cooked for her, tried to persuade her to shower, to get dressed, to get out of the house. And even though she knew she'd get hell for it, Sam still insisted on massaging Janet's hand three times a day. This was now the only contact that Janet would allow. She knew that whatever she said, Sam would insist. So she looked forward to the massage, feeling Sam's tender fingers touch her, care for her.

Janet wished she could let Sam in, but she just couldn't. She hoped that eventually Sam would leave her, find somebody who deserved her.

Sam came home at 6.30pm one evening. "I'm sorry, honey," she called as she came through the door. "I couldn't get out any earlier, there was a problem in the MALP room. I tried to call you, guess you were in the bathroom?" Sam tried to keep her tone light, but feared what Janet's reaction would be. There was no answer.

She went into the living room, and saw Janet wearing the same stained pajamas she had had on for the last six days. Sam had given up trying to get her to shower. She hoped that eventually Janet would make that decision for herself. She saw an open bottle of whisky, and could tell from the expression on Janet's face that she wasn't entirely sober. She also saw the hated splint on the floor. Broken into pieces.

"Oh Jan," Sam said, unable to keep quiet any longer. "What are you doing to yourself?"

Janet sat up, and fixed her with a steely gaze. "What's wrong, Captain?" she asked icily. "Is your gimp girlfriend not living up to your high standards? Poor perfect Captain Carter," she laughed mockingly, "stuck with a crippled girlfriend, too kind to leave her. Move out then. Find yourself a better specimen."

Sam just looked at her in horror.

"You look surprised!" Janet continued, unable to stop her vicious rant. "Admit it. It's true. You can't want me any more. Look at me! I'm a mess. I can't do anything. I can't work. I can't even put my damned bra on. You can't want me. Be honest, Sam, you don't even want to make love with me any more. Well let me make it easy for you. You can leave whenever you want."

Sam felt as though a stake had been driven through her heart. Deep down, she knew that this was not Janet. This was the result of the weeks of trauma that they had both been through. But damn it, they had _both_ been through the wringer, not just Janet. She suddenly became angry in response.

"Don't you dare," she replied, icily. "Don't you dare presume to know how I feel. I know you've been through a terrible ordeal. I know that. I was there. But have you ever stopped to think that this is not all about you? Yes, you've had a rough deal. There's no denying that. But think again. Think how lucky you are."

"Lucky?" Janet yelled, shaking her twisted hand at her. "You call this lucky?"

"Yes," Sam replied. "I do. You're a doctor. You know what meningitis can do. It can cause septicaemia. Amputations. Deafness. Blindness. Memory loss. Epilepsy. Brain damage. And death, Janet, you know how many people die of meningitis each and every week. And it was nearly you," she was shouting now. "You nearly died. In my arms. Did you hear me? You. Nearly. Died. You had a fever of 104.7. Nobody thought you'd last until the morning. I could have left then if I was going to. But I didn't. I took you in my arms and I held you. I wanted you to know how loved you were. If you were going to die," tears were streaming down Sam's face, "I couldn't bear you to die alone. So I got onto the bed with you. And I held you. You could hardly breathe. Each breath you took was so difficult. So painful. And I thought each one would be the last one. I was convinced you would die that night in my arms."

Janet looked on in horror as Sam recounted the tale that she had up to then kept to herself.

"So don't tell me this is all about you. Do you know how many times I wished I could trade places with you? I'd rather have died than lose you. I still would. I can't live without you Janet. And as for making love with you, you're the one that keeps pulling away from me. Do you have the slightest idea how much our lovemaking means to me? Making love to you is the purest thing I have ever done. To me, there is no single thing in this world that is more erotic than holding you, watching your face, as you come. Do you realize that we haven't made love for 47 days now? That's the longest we've ever gone without sex. But that's because you didn't want to, not me. And I didn't want to push you. I thought it would all be okay once you were ready again. But I love you so much Janet, that even if you were never ready again, I would still rather be with you than with anybody else. And if," a look of disgust came over her face, "if for one moment you think that this," she reached out and took Janet's twisted hand, "makes the slightest difference to how I feel about you, then I'm ashamed of you. Of us. I'm ashamed of what we've come to."

Janet stood open-mouthed in front of Sam, shame overwhelming her.

"I'm not going to leave you, Janet. If you think that being mean, stopping your exercises, breaking your splint, behaving in this self-pitying way, refusing even to wash or get dressed, is going to scare me into leaving, then you're wrong. If you want me to go, then you're gonna have to tell me so. I'll never stop loving you, wanting you, but I'll go if you want me to. But you're going to have to kick me out. Then you can sit in your stinking clothes, and drink yourself to death. Just don't ever expect me not to care. To stop loving you. Don't ever expect that."

Sam suddenly couldn't breathe. She rushed to the garden door, and struggled with the lock to get out of the house. She felt Janet's hand on her shoulder. "No!," she shouted, "leave me alone," and at that the door opened, and she flung herself into the garden, taking in deep lungfuls of air. She ran to a dark corner of the deck, and fell to her knees, her body wracked with tears as she gasped and sobbed.

Back in the living room, Janet had never felt so ashamed of herself her whole life. She couldn't believe what she had come to. She had thrown away everything that had ever mattered. Well, she decided, she wasn't going to just let it go like that. Sam was too important to her. Her hand didn't matter, she realized. It didn't matter to Sam, not in the slightest. Sam loved her. And she loved Sam with every fiber of her being. She sank down on the couch, her head in her hands. Then she stood up. She cleared the living room of debris, including the broken splint. She would replace that tomorrow, she promised herself.

She tipped the rest of the whisky down the kitchen sink. She wondered wryly whether Sam would appreciate this symbolic gesture. This was after all a bottle of single malt that she kept in the closet for Sam, who was a whisky connoisseur. She would go out tomorrow and buy her the most expensive bottle she could find, she decided. If Sam still wanted to be with her.

She went into the bedroom, and peeled off her filthy pajamas, which she then dropped into the trash. She never wanted to see those pajamas again. She went into the bathroom, and stepped into the shower. The water cleansed more than her body. As the hard droplets pounded her, she gave in to the relief of tears.

After ten minutes, she came out of the shower. She looked in the mirror, seeing her puffy face. She applied a light make-up, trying to disguise her earlier tears. She then put on Sam's favorite scent, and rifled through the closet for clothes that she knew Sam loved, hoping that she hadn't left her deep red shirt at Sam's apartment. That shirt always sent Sam wild, especially if she left the third button undone. She took out a matching set of black lacy underwear, and then smiled to herself. She wouldn't be able to put the bra on. Sam would understand, she decided.

Soon she was dressed in black pants and the shirt, her hair hanging loosely about her face just like Sam preferred. Delicate gold earrings hung from her ears. She wanted to wear the fine gold necklace that Sam had given her, but she knew she wouldn't be able to do up the catch on that either. That didn't matter, she told herself.

Taking a deep breath, Janet went back into the living room. The door to the garden was still open. Praying that Sam was still in the garden, Janet stepped outside. The light was going, and it took her a few seconds before she saw a figure huddled miserably in the corner, still shaking with sobs.

Janet went up to Sam, and sat down next to her, taking her hand. Sam looked up at her, fear and desperation in her eyes.

"Sorry is never enough. What can I do to make this right?" Janet asked in a quiet voice.

"Do you really want to make it right?" Sam asked, her voice hoarse.

"More than anything," Janet said with feeling.

"Then it's enough," Sam said simply.

"Sam, I'm so sorry. I can't believe the way I behaved," Janet looked at her tenderly. "Everything I put you through. I was so angry, Sam. But not at you. Never at you. I should never have taken it out on you."

Sam pulled Janet's hand to her lips, and kissed it softly. "You've had a hell of a ride, Jan," she said.

"You too, baby," Janet said. "And I made it worse for you. I'll never forgive myself for that."

"You have to," Sam said quietly. "It's done. It's over. I love you. Just the same as before. I love every inch of you, every hair on your head. I worship you, Janet Fraiser."

Janet stood up, and pulled Sam to her feet. "You're freezing," she said, touching Sam's cheek. "Come inside."

One they were back in the living room, Janet pulled Sam into a tight embrace, which Sam willingly accepted, melting gratefully into Janet's touch. Janet then kissed Sam softly on the mouth, becoming more fervent as she felt Sam respond. Janet undid a fourth button her shirt, enjoying Sam's expression as her eyes traveled south.

"Bedroom?" Janet suggested. Sam nodded.

Janet pushed Sam gently on to the bed, and slowly removed her clothes, kissing every inch of skin as it became exposed. Janet leant forward and kissed Sam, but then her crippled hand started to jerk. She looked distraught.

"It's okay, baby," Sam whispered, taking the fist and massaging the fingers in her own soft, strong hands. In just over a minute, the tremor was over. Sam kissed each finger separately and then interlaced the fingers with her own. "You're still perfect," she said to Janet in a quiet voice.

Janet's eyes filled with tears. "You complete me," she whispered to Sam.

Hours later, Sam folded Janet in her arms as they finally readied themselves to sleep. The emotion of the last weeks caught up with her, and she started to cry. Janet found herself equally moved. They wept in each other's arms, as they hugged. "I'm so sorry, baby," Janet whispered.

"Nothin' to be sorry for," Sam said again and again. "You came back to me. You came back to me."

"And I'm never going away again," Janet promised. "I want to be with you for ever."

"I love you Dr Janet Fraiser," Sam said.

"And I love you Captain Samantha Carter," Janet's voice cracked with emotion. "So very much." And she snuggled into Sam's front. For the first time in weeks, the two women slept peacefully all night, limbs tangled, safe in the knowledge that the storm had passed.

END


End file.
